Baolan listened to the sounds outside—everyone busy fetching water, washing their faces and feet—as if nothing had happened. Not a single person came in to check on her. It made her heart turn cold.
She got up and went out to wash.
At the water jar by the kitchen’s back door, she ran into Xing Jiafu, who had just come out from the toilet around the corner.
“Dad.”
Xing Jiafu gave a grunt. “Second girl, don’t worry. I’ll talk to your mother.”
At first glance, it sounded like he was taking her side. But if you thought about it carefully, there wasn’t a single real promise in those words. If he truly stood with her, what would it hurt to assure her right now that the marriage exchange wouldn’t happen?
As the night breeze blew, Baolan felt clearer-headed than ever. Xing Jiafu used vague words to play the role of a loving father. When the time came and he was “helpless,” unable to persuade her mother, how could she, as a daughter, refuse to be understanding and obedient?
In the end, he and Li Sanniu were just playing different roles—one the “good cop,” the other the “bad cop.” Different methods, same goal: controlling her.
Baolan gave a vague reply.
After tidying up, she went into the main room. Her younger brother, Baolin, was there trying to light the kerosene lamp.
The wick wouldn’t catch fire no matter what he did. Baolan took the steel hairpin from her head, pried the wick out a bit, and lit it smoothly.
Baolin took the lamp and let out a sigh of relief. “Finally lit.”
Baolan asked, “Still going to study tonight?” Baolin was diligent and always ranked first in class.
Baolin nodded. “Yeah. Second Sister—”
Baolan looked at him expectantly.
When he was little and had to walk far to school in Zhangjia Shop Village, she would wake up before dawn to cook for him and carry him on her back to school. She believed she had treated this younger brother very well. Now he was twelve, already in middle school—he should understand some things. Having read so many books, he should know it was wrong for the family to trade his sister for a bride for their older brother.
Baolan didn’t expect him to solve anything. If only he could comfort her a little, she would be satisfied.
But Baolin scratched his head awkwardly and smiled. “Second Sister, can you make the porridge thicker in the mornings? I’m always hungry.”
The kerosene lamp flickered. Suddenly, Baolan felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was as if someone had clenched her heart.
“Ah… okay, okay. I’ll add more cornmeal tomorrow,” she said.
Watching Baolin go back to his room, Baolan felt utterly disheartened.
In this family, there was no one she could rely on.
Inside, Baomei and Baozhen were sleeping on the inner side of the bed. Baolan lay down on the outer side.
“Second Sister…” Baomei called softly.
Baolan didn’t want to talk. She pulled the thin blanket over her head. “Sleep. I still have to chop firewood tomorrow.”
Baomei and Baozhen whispered for a while, then soon fell asleep.
After they were asleep, Baolan quietly got up and slipped out of bed.
The three sisters slept in the inner room on the east side. The outer room was used for storage. From there, turning right led straight into the main hall. Her parents lived in the outer room on the west side opposite.
Baolan crept to the door. Voices still came from inside—her parents weren’t asleep yet.
She strained her ears to listen.
“Did you see how the second one talked back to me? I’ve always known she’s rebellious. Always trying to dominate since she was little. If I hadn’t kept her in line, she’d have climbed onto the roof by now.”
“Actually, the eldest girl’s age matches Chen Laosan better—one’s twenty-two, the other eighteen.”
“The eldest won’t do. I’ve already found her a good match.”
“Oh? Which family for Baomei?”
“The eldest son of Wu Jiahua from Maiziping. Handsome fellow—just right for Baomei.”
“Maiziping has flat land and grows plenty of grain. A good place. Since Baomei has a match, then Baolan will go to the Chen family.”
Xing Jiafu didn’t really care whether it was the eldest or second daughter who married over. What mattered most was that his eldest son got a good wife.
“As for Baolan, talk to her properly. A girl threatening to make trouble or die at every turn—what kind of behavior is that? If she really makes a scene at the township office, how can I still hold my position as a village cadre?”
“Her? I know how to deal with her.”
“What method? Always using the same tricks—threatening suicide. I think the second one learned it from you.”
“Why are you blaming me? Wasn’t it your mother who forced me into this?”
Baolan didn’t need to listen any further.
She had long known her parents wouldn’t back down. Tonight’s attempt was just her last bit of hope.
Now that hope was gone, she could already imagine what her mother would do—hang herself, shove a knife into Baolan’s hand and tell her to kill her, or run off to the mountains threatening to jump off a cliff.
No matter what, Li Sanniu was confident that Baolan would always come running after her, pleading, yielding.
This time, she was wrong.
Baolan had made up her mind to leave this family.
In the past, for a girl, leaving her original family meant only one thing: getting married—just a question of near or far.
But things were different in the new society. Baolan knew there was another way: go to the city and find a job.
She had a perfect example right in front of her—her cousin Li, the daughter of her maternal uncle, seven years older than her.
Back then, her uncle had arranged a marriage for Cousin Li, but she refused no matter what. Somehow, she found the courage to secretly take a boat to the county town.
That was in 1950, when the county was still chaotic. Fortunately, she persuaded the owner of an oil-press workshop to let her stay as a helper.
After more than two years, the county consolidated the workshops into a state-run oil factory. As a worker from a small workshop, Cousin Li successfully entered the state factory, became a regular worker, and earned a monthly wage. Now she was the most accomplished child in the family. Since she could stay in the city, her parents no longer dared force her into marriage—instead, they had to cater to her.
Baolan thought: Cousin Li had never even been to the county before running away, yet she made it there by sheer courage. Baolan herself had already been to the county twice—her situation was much better. If Cousin Li could make it, why couldn’t she?
In fact, Baolan had long planned to go to the city for work. She had even taken action—asking Cousin Li to watch for job openings, writing to her second uncle in the northern province in hopes he could help her find a job.
Unfortunately, all the factories in the county were already full. In the past year or two, there hadn’t been any recruitment at all.
Her second uncle hadn’t replied either.
Baolan felt an increasing sense of urgency. It wasn’t just her parents forcing her into marriage—jobs were also becoming harder to find.
Cousin Li had said that more and more rural people were entering factories, and even the quotas for city residents weren’t enough anymore. Sooner or later, there might be policies forbidding the hiring of people with rural household registrations.
Where could she find work?
Baolan tossed and turned, only falling asleep after midnight.
The next day, those who needed to go to school went to school, and those who needed to work in the fields went to the fields.
While cooking the morning porridge, Baolan made it thicker as Baolin had requested.
After he and Baozhen finished eating, they went together to Zhangjia Shop Village for school. It was a wealthy and populous village—the only place besides the town that had a middle school.
Baolin and Baozhen could accompany each other.
After seeing them off, Baolan calculated that in just a few more days, they would be on summer break.
Which meant the slack farming season was approaching.
In their area, it was customary during the slack season for marriageable young men and women to be matched. Engagements would be settled in July or August, with weddings held at the end of the year or early the next.
That was exactly her mother’s plan.
She could make a scene, but whether the township officials would side with her was uncertain.
The time left for her was running out.